


All My Attention

by olliya



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Madara's POV, Modern AU, Oral Sex, PWP, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, one-night stand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 21:47:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21004670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olliya/pseuds/olliya
Summary: Madara, Sakura and a boring social event. And a one-night stand.





	All My Attention

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yomigaeru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yomigaeru/gifts).

> This fic is dedicated to yomigaeru and prompted by one of her "MadaSaku songs". The song is "Burn" by Marnik :) It's already second time that I'm writing a fic to a song, and I enjoyed it immensely. I tried to incorporate both the atmosphere of the song and the quotes from the lyrics, and it was so much fun.

The girl was dancing. In the very middle of the floor, eyes half-closed, arms slightly raised as she rocked to the music. There was no one accompanying her, she wasn't paying any attention to her surroundings. There was concentration and in the same time serenity on her face. Her entire focus seemed to be on the melody. Every move of her lifted arms, every half-step she was taking, every roll and twist of her hips – it all served a purpose. Every tiny motion was an interpretation of the music.

Madara narrowed his eyes and tried to decipher the language, to read the patterns. Ah, yes – the entrance of percussions was interpreted as the stomp of her heel. That was easy. The beginning of the chorus was that swing of her left arm forward and a halfspin of her body. The climax of the chorus – a rocking of her hips with her hands propped on her thighs. He couldn't deny that he found it… interesting.

The song ended. The girl stopped and with slightly tilted head waited for the beginning of the next one. Her eyes were now open and as she turned to let by a couple leaving the dancefloor pass by, they swept over the crowd gathered between the cocktail tables. The crowd he was in.

He didn't revert his gaze. No way she would notice him from this distance and with this lighting. The place for the guests to mingle and chat, where he was standing, was in dim, warm light, while she was forced to look against the stroboscopes of the dancefloor. The next song started and the girl turned back towards the middle of floor, but she remained motionless. Was she trying to recognize the song? Or was she already planning how to translate it into the movement? Either the way she started to slowly rock to the rhythm – as if still undecided how to go on.

Madara couldn't help to appreciate the shape of her behind. Her dress covered more than the dresses of most of women here, but it was tight enough on her hips that when her standing like this… The evaluation was simply a reflex.

The new song was livelier than the previous one and she must have liked it because she gave small jump up when the beat got at its most energetic. This time small tiptoeing accompanied with roll of the hips was accentuating the crescendo of the refrain.

Madara smiled. She was good.

The girl spun and her eyes passed over Madara's face, their eyes connecting for a shortest split of second.

Madara put his empty glass onto the tray carried by a passing waiter and provisioned himself with a full one. The tequila they were serving here was indeed of highest quality. Hashirama's usual flailing about the impeccable organization of the party wasn't, for once, that ungrounded.

The girl was dancing to yet another song. It was a typical slow-dancing piece and she was rocking in the tempo of the music, the movements of her arms tracing the melancholic piano motif of the song. She was rotating gradually, her eyes half-closed once again. But when she was in a position where she was facing him, they snapped open – she was looking directly at him. Caught. Their eyes came in contact for longer that it would be acceptable until it was Madara who broke it and had his gaze slide sidewards in a mock disinterest.

He picked up his glass from a cocktail table and retreated into the crowd. He circled the room and went towards the resting area with the couches and low tables situated by the entrance to the terrace. But he didn't sit down. He propped himself against the window frame and from the distance scanned the dancefloor. The girl was still there, still dancing. He regretted missing the details, especially those of her face expressions. But he could still appreciate her even from here.

The music changed once again, and Madara threw a look onto the garden. Now, as the evening was getting chilly, most of the guests were already indoors and only the waiters were cleaning after the appetizers that had been served in the garden.

When he looked at the dancefloor again the girl was gone. He held in a sight and took a swig of his drink. Well, it was a pleasant distraction as long as it lasted. Probably the highlight of the evening anyhow. The entire idea of representative functions, mingling with all those people that thought themselves important… He really had to force himself to even come here. On rational level he knew that such events were crucial for building the relations, that it was how connections were made. That he, as the head of their organization should do just that – create and cultivate the connections. Something that came so easy for Hashirama, he thought with spite. That's why the Senju faired much better when it came to the contracts with the city.

But Hashirama wanted both of their companies to stay on equal footing. Because of their old friendship, he claimed. That this idea was somewhat supported by Tobirama could only mean that the anti-monopoly office was already breathing down their neck - the cynical part of Madara's brain supplemented.

Nevertheless, Hashirama was hell-bent on organizing this grand event, where the Senju and Uchiha companies, together with several smaller players in tow would host the elite of the city of Konoha and - by extension - of the Fire Country. Madara still couldn't believe that he had agreed. Kagami took over the organizational part of venture, accompanied by a certain Senju Tōka. He never met the woman. But looking at the lavish displays of status and ostentatious luxury that must have cost a fortune, he already disliked her.

Madara, fully aware of the scowl on his face detached himself from the wall and sighed. Now he really should go mingle.

To his left, just in his peripheral vision something pink blurred. He turned his head and saw the very girl that he was watching on the dancefloor plopping on the couch. She was visibly tired, her chest heaving. And her hair – completely pink, like… like bubblegum. That ridiculous comparison was the only one that came to Madara mind as he was staring at her. In the stroboscope light he completely missed that striking feature – he simply assumed she was fair-haired.

Why was she even here? Did she know he was here? Did she come here on purpose? Well, either the way, he wasn't going to complain.

That will be really unrefined, and normally Madara would never, ever consider doing something as cliché as making a move at a woman on a party. But this one… He couldn't remember when someone caught his attention in such a way.

He waited until the waiter was ten steps behind the couch the girl was sitting on and he dropped a starter: "Looks like you'll be needing a drink…" Cheap. Really cheap. He should be ashamed of himself, but he held a straight face and beckoned at the waiter.

The girl glanced up, acknowledging his presence. She didn't look surprised to see him. In direct contact her eyes were even more haunting. It wasn't only about the colour – even though they were of a brilliant shade of green he had never seen on a person. It was how expressive they were.

"Oh, no thanks. Alcohol isn't the best idea at the moment. I think I should drink some water first."

Madara smirked. She declined, but still offered an opening. "A glass of water for the lady," he said to the waiter.

"Thank you," said the girl slowly. "That's very thoughtful of you."

"Well, that seemed a reasonable idea – after all the dancing you did."

The waiter returned carrying a carafe of water and filled a glass for her. The girl emptied it greedily.

"You would know, wouldn't you?" she asked, lifting the second glass of water to her lips, this time in a more restrained manner.

"What do you mean?"

"Weren't you watching me all the time?"

Shit, thought Madara. He hoped he had been discreet enough. To late to back off now. "Well, you sure danced as if _nobody_ was watching."

The girl looked him straight in the eyes, her expression full of focus as if he had just said something important.

"What is it?" asked Madara taking a sip of his drink.

"Funny," said the girl. "That's exactly what I imagine every time I go dancing. That nobody's watching. That I'm alone in the room, alone in that space. That there is only me and the music…"

"Hmm.. I wish I was able to shut the surroundings out like that. That must be pretty blissful."

"It is. But today I couldn't reach that state of bliss." The girl half-pouted, half-smirked. "Your attention was a tad… overwhelming."

Normally, it would have been a red light. A young girl creeped out by a man's staring. Normally he would consider he overstepped and removed himself from her presence. Normally. But the girl didn't seem upset. Rather playful? Amused?

"I'm sorry. Did I ruin your fun?" It was obvious that he didn't and that was the only reason why he even phrased the question in such a way.

"No. You didn't. I never imagined it was possible, but it was enjoyable… I felt, I don't know…"

"Admired?" he prompted.

A faintest shade of blush showed on the girl's cheeks but her voice didn't waver, not even a bit. "It was surprisingly stimulating to know someone was watching me," she said, looking upwards as if analyzing her own experiences. "It motivated me to think about my dance. To take care that each of my moves was perfect."

"They were perfect," smiled Madara. "And maybe we got to the gist of it?"

The girl tilted her head, prompting him to elaborate.

"Because what is the point of creating something beautiful if there is no one there to appreciate it? The beauty is, in the end, in the eye of beholder, isn't it?"

The girl arched an eyebrow at him with a hint of skepticism, but from the manner her lips curved he knew she liked what she heard. Meaning - he was allowed to continue. "Do you train dancing?"

"Me? No." The girl shook her head and laughed. "That was very… hmm… intuitive dancing. Wasn't it?"

"But you do train something." Her body was toned in a way that spoke of sport. Not like bodies of most of the women here – soft, smooth and slim, untouched by physical effort. He always found such bodies mildly disgusting. "What do you train?"

The girl fidgeted on a couch. "Kung-fu," she said in the end.

"And why does it make you self-conscious?"

"Ehh…" sighted the girl. "I don't know… A girl and martial arts. I always get strange looks for it."

"I don't see anything strange in it."

The girl sent him a smile. Maybe she was indeed ostracized for it, though he really didn't see a reason. Everyone should strive to be strong and capable, no matter a man or a woman.

"And you? What do you train? Because obviously, you do as well," asked the girl and Madara's ego swelled a tiny little bit – because apparently his trainings showed. "Judging from your interest as it was the first question you've asked me," finished the girl.

Oh. So it didn't show. But never mind. "I used to practice kendo. Quite competitively."

"Used to?"

"At some point I stopped having time for regular trainings. To practice properly you need a sparring partner, with whom you need to make appointments, which you should keep… With my hectic and overpacked schedule – a near impossibility. So, it's mostly a boring gym for me nowadays…"

The girl was examining him with pinched brows. "So much work?"

Madara nodded. How long has it been since someone showed even a smidgen of concern about his capacities?

"Oh, I'm sorry about it," said the girl. "I guess I'm approaching that stage in large steps as well. It already feels that every moment I want for myself, for pure leisure I have to rip out with teeth and claws away from all my obligations."

"Exactly."

"I don't know how long will I manage to still keep doing things I like…"

"Don't give up on those. You don't look like someone who could live without having at least some fun."

"Do you still have some fun? At least sometimes?"

Madara swirled the drink in his glass.

"Oh, you do! Tell!" exclaimed the girl. "I can see that it's something peculiar. Now I'm even more curious." She propped her chin on the palm of her hand and leaned towards him.

"Hmm.. Bow-shooting."

"Wow, really? I've never heard someone doing that for a hobby."

"I picked it up from one of my nephews. You don't need partners or appointments for it. And it's a intriguing mix of mentally cleansing and physically demanding."

"How comes?"

He had her full attention now. He wanted to smirk, but he held it back. Actually, it wasn't smirking that he wanted to do – it was smiling, he realized. "Depending on the bow, but if you use one with large draw weight it takes a lot of strength to draw it. And then you need to hold it steady while you take an aim. You need to achieve perfect concentration and motionlessness while under significant physical strain. Very interesting exercise. Both for body and mind."

It was so easy to talk. Maybe because he could finally talk about something he was passionate about. Or somewhat passionate, because this adjective didn't pair well with the image of himself that Madara had. Well, he might as well continue. She didn't seem uncomfortable with this conversation. What did people ask on such occasions? "So, what do you do?"

"Like, professionally?"

Madara nodded.

"I'm a doctor. But currently I'm not in the hospital. I'm working in a research center that is dealing with novel regenerative therapies. For conditions that are nowadays uncurable."

She must have been older than he initially assumed. He scrutinized her more carefully. Indeed, her face had no trace of teenage roundness. Neither had her bearing a trace of immaturity or ignorance so characteristic for young age. It was probably her coloring and how petite she was that misled him. "Yes? What are those therapies based on?" he prompted. "It's very interesting, why did you stop?"

"That's the point where I usually pause. I let people say 'wow, that must be interesting' and change the topic," giggled the girl. "I've learned that from here on whenever I go into details people get those strange thousand-mile looks on their faces. Very funny, but puts conversations into awkward stand-stills. I guess it's just too much of an insider knowledge and people have no idea what to do with it."

"Try me."

"Well, you know, there are many types of cells, but they all ultimately come from just _one_, single cell – that of the fertilized egg. So, they all have the same genetic material as this one cell from which the entire organism…"

"Yes, cell differentiation. I know. And what about it?"

"Uhm, well, did you hear about stem cells?"

Madara nodded.

"You can search for them in umbilical blood, in bone marrow. Or you can try to revert the normal cells to the state when.."

"When they can do what real stem cells do - develop into those cells that your patients need… I'm impressed, I had no idea the technology was already that far…"

"How do you know all this?"

"When I was younger, I did an internship in a lab of a guy who was quite a major figure on the field at that time. Controversial, but famous. He had this theory that the cells from certain individuals carry higher regenerative potential than from the rest of population. He was screening blood donors and hospital patients, especially victims of road accidents for such special qualities. It wasn't exactly according to the rules of conduct how he was obtaining the samples. Because sometimes, the donor was just too promising to let the chance pass even when there was no consent… His work was deemed unethical and his lab dissolved. Zetsu was his name. I suppose you've never heard?"

"No..."

"I guess you wouldn't. He faded into oblivion after this scandal. Now that I think about it, it was indeed not quite… crystal clear what we were doing. I anyway had to take over after my father at that time, so I broke off my studies anyhow sometime around that episode."

He was to same extend glad and disappointed that she didn't ask about the nature of his current work. Glad because that was the last thing he wanted to talk about. And disappointed because maybe he just looked so obviously a rich, high-ranking businessman that she didn't need to ask. Well, that was a bleak thought.

The girl crossed one leg over another. Her dress, that was anyhow very short, slid up even more. That reminded him why did she attract his attention in the first place.

Before he needed to come up with another topic, the music stopped. Screeching voice from the speakers announced the formal part of the event. The long-dreaded speeches.

"We should go, right?" asked the girl.

"Theoretically we should." Madara stood up and started walking towards the main part of the hall. The girl was following him, he noticed with small triumph. In order to retain at least some privacy, he headed to the high tables standing along the wall at the very end of the hall. They should be at least pretending to pay attention, so it wouldn't do if they stood with their backs towards the stage. Luckily, some of the stands were positioned in some distance from the wall. The girl, reading his intentions, slipped between the wall and the tables and he followed.

She propped her elbow on the table that was reaching higher that her waist and turned to him. "So now what? We listen?"

"We try to look like we're listening while we actively shield this gibberish away from our consciousness."

The girl laughed out loud so much that she swayed and lightly punched him on the biceps. "Hey, aren't those people supposed to be important?"

First physical contact, and that, initiated by her. He got so caught up in the realization that he forgot to answer and the girl turned her head towards the stage where the mayor of Konoha was just entering the podium. The shift of her attention gave him a chance to study her from up close. He looked at her face long enough already, so now he focused on the parts on which he shouldn't be caught staring. Her breasts were small, but it fitted to how slim she was in general. Her behind though… He wanted to feel it and check if it was as firm as it looked. He was sure it was. But checking wouldn't hurt.

He forcibly diverted his thoughts. What was he even thinking? He felt his blood running a bit faster than usual. Maybe he should slow down on this tequila.

The girl put more weight onto her elbows and arched her back. Which made her butt jut out backwards. Madara turned his head away. He won't be staring.

The mayor on the stage was gaining momentum as he got onto the topic of infrastructure development. From Madara's experience he was able beat this horse for anything up to an hour. Gods have mercy.

"Hey, why so grim? It's a bit boring but not that bad," said the girl. "Think about something nice, won't you?" She sent him a toothy smile and took a sip from her drink. The way she licked her lips when a drop of alcohol smudged on her bottom lip made Madara turn his head again.

"Maybe better not," he said.

"Why?"

"Because I'm used to making my thoughts reality. Maybe I shouldn't."

"Why not?" She turned so that she was facing him, her hip arched accentuating her curves, her hand to her cheek, fingers entangled in hair. No woman stood like that unless she was interested. "Why not?" she repeated looking him straight into the eyes. There was such a perfect serenity in her voice that it had Madara question his conviction.

"I have impression you would like to ask me something…"

"You do?" Madara arched his eyebrow, not sure what she was referring to.

"Aha," she nodded. "Then what is the question?"

Did he even have a question…? Well, he did – he wanted to know if she felt the same sort of attraction to him as he felt to her… But one cannot ask that. What would be his question then? He tilted his head and scanned her up and down. "That dress… What kind of fabric it is?" He extended his hand to touch the material stretched on her hip.

"I have no idea," she answered in the same tone of perfect tranquility, not stopping the eye contact as his finger slid downwards. "And I don't think it matters."

Madara ran his fingers even more down. The material was supple in touch. "No, I guess it doesn't." He skimmed a bit lower, and lower still, until he reached the hem. The girl didn't budge. Taking a plunge Madara ran his finger past the border. With just a fingertip he couldn't really perceive how did her skin feel like. But the awareness that he was touching her bare flesh, and in such an area… It made his blood boil.

The girl extended her lips into a foxy smile. He moved his finger a bit lower and then back up, but this time underneath the dress. Girl's lips opened by a millimeter. She looked so kissable at that moment that it took all Madara's determination not to lunge forwards.

The applause announced a shift on the stage, as a new speaker entered the podium. Familiar mop of white hair of Senju Tobirama made Madara cringe.

Prompted by the noise the girl turned. Madara's hand stayed where it was and she didn't step away. He caressed the skin on her outer thigh – he was using all his digits already and he was getting more and more satisfaction out of it. The girl shifted minutely so she was more in his range. He slid his hand to the back of her thigh and a bit more upwards. What a blessed idea it was to chose this standing place with the wall behind them and a covered table in front of them.

The curve of her buttock was under his fingertips. He traced gentle lines, getting accustomed with the shape. The girl drank the last drops from her drink. And when her glass turned empty, she extracted the glass from his fingers and took a swig. "Ugh. Strong," she announced with a slight grimace.

"Don't like it?"

"No… I like it…"

He moved his hand between her thighs. The material of her pants was silky-smooth and he could feel the heat radiating from her core. Heat and… moisture? He shifted his finger towards her center. Yes, definitely moisture. He applied gentle pressure and the girl pushed against his hand. She played with her empty glass, turning it on the table, deliberately not looking at him.

But her mouth was half-open and Madara felt as if he was soaring. He pressed couple of times more, creating a semblance of a rhythm and then he hooked his fingers under her pants. The girl shuddered, but otherwise kept her reactions under control.

It was wet in her pants. Madara pushed her underwear to the side as it was hindering his maneuvers and found her entrance. He traced lazy circles around it, even allowing himself to dip a tip of the finger into the depression between her lips from time to time. The girl was breathing in a very measured way.

In a distance Madara saw a waiter heading their direction. Judging from his trajectory, he would be passing by their table. Madara rubbed one more circle around her opening and slowly withdrew his hand. The girl turned her head abruptly. Looking at her he smeared the wetness from his finger on the edge of his glass. Girl's eyes, and pupils, as far as he could see, went huge. He lifted the glass to his lips, and tilted it not taking his eyes off her. The alcohol that was at the bottom of the glass didn't reach his mouth, but her taste did.

"Strong indeed." He said, tilting his head. "But I like it."

As predicted, the waiter appeared.

"Madam, another drink for you?" The girl accepted another fancy fruity drink with what seemed like gratitude. "For you sir?" He refused with a swing of his hand. Even if his glass was almost empty, he grew suddenly very fond of it.

The waiter placed a small platter of chocolate truffles within their reach and left.

The girl took one of the chocolates and sunk her teeth into it. Even though the portions were clearly intended for single bite, she bit into it to see what's inside. An inquisitive creature, in every aspect of her - established Madara.

The chocolate glaze melted on her fingers leaving dark brown, glossy stains – her hands must have been pretty hot if it melted at such a short contact. She will lick her fingers, Madara was sure of it. There was no way around it, and he will have to watch it. Gods, give him strength.

He should better act on it. The longer he lets it simmer the messier it will become. They'll melt like this chocolate on the girl's fingers. He'll melt. A bit longer and things will slip out of control. Better to act now before he oversteps and does something unacceptable in front of the public. They should consume what they started and minimize the damage.

"Mm, those are really good," said the girl pushing the platter with pralines towards him. "Wanna try some?"

"Not really. With those chocolates you never know what you'll get. And I'd rather always know."

"But that's the whole fun of it! Only once it's in your mouth, you can taste it and know. Or sometimes you don't know even then and you have to take a look." She threw a glance at her fingers and raised them to her mouth. It was discreet enough, but since Madara was so close, and he knew what she was about to do, it had all the impact.

He needed to act. How do you even proposition such a thing? Such a tryst?

A tryst with a random girl. Affiliated with one of major families in some way, judging from her presence on such an event. In the current position of the negotiations… What was he even doing? If someone notices he will lose his face. The agreements depended on trust, so much hung on simply his word and his reputation.

Yet the risk spurned him even further. He always had an inclination to playing with fire. He stole one more look at the girl. Well, one could easily compare her to a flame dancing on a log of wood. Her moves on the dancefloor were so fluid. Unpredictable to his eye, yet always perfectly attuned to the music.

As all her moves now – unpredictable, but attuned to him nevertheless…

But what was he supposed to say?

"You were right – it_ is_ boring." The girl pointed to the stage where Tobirama was going into details of financial reports from two years prior. "Any ideas for alternatives?"

Perfectly attuned.

"Well, I could think of couple of more fun ways to spend time."

"Oh, will there be fun? Do you promise?"

"I promise it will be more fun than listening to him," Madara nodded towards the stage.

"Low standards," she snorted playfully. "Can't you promise more?"

"I promise I will do my absolute best to entertain you."

"Sounds good enough... So, what's the plan?"

"Let's meet on the stairs, but not of the main staircase, but the one at the end of the wing of the building. Of this wing that we're in right now," he specified. "I'll go first, so wait a moment until you follow."

The girl nodded sending him a mischievous smile. He could tell she liked the idea of sneaking out. Madara emptied his glass and slowly headed towards one of exits, keeping his movement inconspicuous and as low-key as possible. Opening the first button of his collar, he unhurriedly made for the end of the hotel's wing. The building, though new, was stylized on a historical mansion with wings circling the yard opened only from the south. The whole building was all rented for today's event, even though it wasn't planned for the guests to overnight here. So Madara was relatively sure that none of the guests would be hanging around on the upper floors at this hour.

The staircase at the end of the building was all glass. He climbed to the half-floor and looked into the garden. The decorations on the trees were lid in multiple colors, giving impression of strange, exotic flowers.

He propped himself against the wall and waited. Then he descended couple of steps and stood the way so that he could observe the corridor. He couldn't see the main hall entrance, as the wing made a 90-degrees bend, but he was positive he would be able to hear her steps. If she would be coming. Which she wasn't.

Madara glimpsed at his watch. How long should he wait? He looked how the second hand moved around and around the watch's face.

Clatter of heels broke him out of the gloomy contemplation of passing of time. A small figure appeared from behind the corner and in brisk steps approached the stairs.

She passed by him as if nothing happened and started to climb the stairs. Well, she was at least heading in the correct direction, so he wouldn't complain. Keeping slightly behind her, he could enjoy the view of her legs and her behind. He was tempted to touch it, but he restrained himself.

"What took you so long?" he asked when they've passed the second floor.

"Oh, I saw that they started to serve a different kind of dessert so I waited until I got it." The girl turned to examine his face. "And now you're upset about my priorities? You should have tried that dessert… Plus I don't think it was an either-or situation. You see, I was pretty sure you'll wait," she laughed.

"You're wounding my ego," answered Madara playing up the mock hurt in his voice. "I hope at least that the dessert was worth it."

"Oh, it was. Wanna try?" The girl whirled around on a step and steadied herself against his shoulder. She was two steps above him on the stairs which made her on equal height with him. She tilted her head and kissed him full on the mouth. He didn't have to wait; she gave him full access right away. Still, it was an unhurried kiss, deliberate one. She indeed intended on letting him taste her, so he did.

Couple of seconds later, she broke the kiss but kept very close to him. "And?" she asked. "How do you like it?"

"I think I liked the other flavour better. But I'm not much of a sweet tooth, so I might be a bit biased."

She girl laughed, pecked him on the lips and spun. Her heels clattered on the stairs.

They reached the highest floor. The stairs ended on a platform facing the glass wall of the building. Madara went down the corridor, discreetly pushing the door knobs of the rooms he was passing. Closed, all of them. Well, it was a fool's hope to expect that any of them would be open.

The girl was following him. She tugged at his sleeve to get his attention.

"Cheer up. I'm sure we can improvise something…"

She pulled him stronger and they were suddenly nose to nose, chest to chest. The girl wound her hands around his waist and drawing him closer took one step back after another until her back was against the wall. The next kiss happened before Madara even decided on it.

They were really close to the staircase - the analytical part of Madara's brain registered. It half-shocked Madara that such part of his brain was still active given the circumstances. The proximity of the stairs meant that whatever noise they made would echo downstairs. That was a disadvantage. In the same time, whoever would be coming they could notice him early enough to react accordingly. Maybe it wasn't that bad of a place, concluded Madara pushing his tongue inside the girl's mouth.

He pinned her harder against the wall and found a pulse point on her neck. The girl angled her head to accommodate him and tangled fingers into his hair. Sliding his hands under her dress Madara cupped her sex. Immediately, she bucked into his palm. '_Impatient,'_ he thought. _'Fine, then.'_ He interrupted the kiss, took off his jacket and lowered himself on the knees in front of her.

"I want to taste you properly." He hooked his fingers under her pants and slowly dragged them down, not breaking the eye contact. The girl was staring, wide-eyed and with quivering lips.

She was standing so the access wasn't how he wanted it to be, even when she spread her legs to grant him as much of it as possible. He took a hold of her ankle and hoisted her leg up onto his shoulder. Her shoe would leave a mark, so he will need to remember to keep his jacket on for the rest of the evening, but it didn't matter to Madara.

He put one hand on her bare buttock and with other he carefully parted her nether lips. He couldn't see much, which was a pity, but he could smell. He licked along his slit – not too hard, only to get the first taste. The girl moaned softly.

He nibbled at her bud, interchanging between tracing soft circles around it and closing his lips on it. His fingers went to her – already a bit familiar, he thought with smugness – opening. He pushed the tip of his middle finger inside her. She was so wet that it was nearly dripping – another reason for satisfaction for him.

Madara pushed all the way into her channel. He curved his finger inside her and simultaneously sucked at her clit with full force. The girl cried out. She buckled on her feet so much that Madara needed to steady her grabbing her thigh. Together, somehow they held her balance. Luckily, she wasn't wearing any of those ridiculously stilettos that made women walk like wounded giraffes, thought Madara. Otherwise this entire endeavor wouldn't be possible.

Not removing his mouth from her Madara drove his finger deeper into her opening and kept pumping into her channel. He held her steady with his other hand, mindful to catch her would her knees give in again. He was so painfully erect that he dreamed about nothing else but fisting himself to completion. But he didn't have a hand free.

As for the other manners of stimulation, Madara didn't even allow himself to even think about them. He won't be coercing the girl to do anything she didn't feel like. And he didn't have a condom. Of course, he didn't have one. He never carried such things on his person. Ever.

But no matter. They could satisfy themselves well enough in another way. Plus, it wasn't the exact manner of physical gratification that was his goal, but rather the act of successful conquest. And - as much as he didn't want to verbalize this thought – the fact of getting intimate with this girl had something special in itself. Either the way, it seemed that he was being very successful judging from how the girl dug fingers into his scalp pressing him to herself. He could hear her moans even though she clamped her mouth with her other hand. He nudged the second finger into her entrance - the girl yelped. And she pulled him up with a strength that surprised him.

She locked her lips with him in a hungry kiss.

"We can go all the way, you know?" She let out when they parted to draw a breath.

"No, we cannot. I don't have protection."

"I'm on a pill."

Madara considered his options. If it was all an elaborate ruse, what where the risks for him? Fathering a child? He had enough resources to support a dozen of kids. And enough resources to have his lawyers make sure he wouldn't need to support anyone, had he chosen so. The loss of reputation? He was unattached and at this point he was sure that the girl was of legal age. In fact, quite above the legal age. The only real risk was a disease. But that was a risk for both of them. And if he was aware of the hazard, and goes to check himself right away…

"Please, hurry…" The girl was like molten metal in his arms. She pressed into his erection and it was making it difficult for him to think. Her hands landed on his belt and she tugged at it.

Ah, let all be damned, thought Madara. Still kissing her violently, he opened his trousers. The girl wanted to close the distance between them, but he held her back. He lowered his pants and freed himself. Girl's hands were on his naked butt and she almost bit him in fervor.

He hoisted her up and bent his knees. That should do. Blindly, he found the place and pushed inside. The girl let out a broken exhale while Madara stilled, cherishing the sudden grasp of hot tightness. So snug, enveloping him in just a perfect way. It's been much too long since he'd been with a woman.

Keeping her suspended he lifted her a bit up and the let her body slide downwards. She hooked her feet on the small of his back and her arms around his neck. Holding her butt he moved, thrusting against her. Difficult. Possible, but not as rewarding as he thought it would be. He wanted to touch her more, to put his hands on so many parts of her. But he couldn't - he had to hold her suspended. She, on the other hand, couldn't respond, which, he imagined, might have been frustrating for her. Madara slid out and put her down.

"Turn around."

The girl complied with speed that spoke of enthusiasm. She splayed her chest against the wall and shifted her legs apart. Madara run his hands along her sides until he reached her hips. Perfect.

Bending his knees to get to her level, he pressed inside her. He sunk easy, easier than moments ago – she was already all open for him. He set a steady rhythm, letting them get accustomed to each other. He ran his hands up and down her sides, memorizing how narrow her waist felt under his palms. Madara pushed her hair to the side and pressed his lips to her neck. The girl jerked having him lose the rhythm for a moment. He liked her reaction so he kissed the same place again. The girl, apparently already prepared for the sensation, this time didn't shudder but leaned into him. He traced kisses lower on her nape until the collar of her dress barred his progress.

"Can I open this?" he asked in a hushed whisper. He didn't really know why he kept his voice low, but it seemed fitting.

The girl nodded. Madara found the zipper and pulled it all way down. The dress opened in front of him like the wrapping of the best present he got in his life. The milky expanse of her back lied bare before him. Bluish in this light, but from what he remembered from downstairs – her skin was more like vanilla. He slid one hand along her spine, mesmerized by the view, while his other hand held her hips to give leverage to his thrusts. But he didn't really need to hold her – she was responding well enough on her own – pushing against him each time he was taking a plunge. Madara put both his hands into her opened dress and placed them on her stomach. He could feel how his thrusts were resonating inside her. He dragged his hands up across her ribs, until, after the flatness of her belly and torso, his fingers encountered a third dimension. He stroked the underside of her breasts, cherishing their gentle swell. The girl reached backwards, undid the clasp of the bra and pushed herself a bit away from the wall. Madara slid his fingers inside her bra and found his way towards her nipples. The girl was still, as if in anticipation, but when he finally reached her nipples, she bent her spine gasping.

Madara's self-control was approaching its limits.

"If you let me, I won't go slow," he said, whole-heartedly hoping she will agree.

The girl let out a breathy laughter and slammed her behind against him. Well, that was an agreement, as far as he was considered. He put both of his hands on her hips, inside her dress this time, and rammed with full force. She landed pushed to the wall as she didn't manage to accommodate the entire momentum. Her hands gave out and she was plastered against the wall.

Madara paused. He assumed she would have enough strength - she only lacked purchase. He looked around – the railing of the staircase was just couple of meters away. He withdrew from her and placing hands on her hips guided her towards it.

The girl gripped the railing with both of her hands and arched giving him even better access to her behind. The first, completely unrestrained thrust was as sweet as it could only be. Madara picked up the speed. She was moaning and he loved it. He was going in so deep. He wished he could go even deeper but that would definitely cause her discomfort.

He wouldn't last much longer, he realized. He needed to make her come. Otherwise it will be a complete fiasco – to maneuver an unsuspecting girl into a rushed tryst with a stranger and leave her unfulfilled? What a failure would that have been.

He slid his hand to her breast, tugged and pinched at her nipple. His other hand travelled between her legs, searching her clit.

He didn't know her. He didn't know where her buttons were and how to push them. He rubbed at her clit in a circle, pinched it gently first, and less gently when she didn't react much. He paid all the attention to the signals from her body, but so far it seemed that he was failing. He was tempted to say something – maybe she was into dirty talk, who knew? But he would never say something so pathetic as "Come for me, baby." Either she comes from what he's doing, or not. He won't order her around.

Luckily all those manipulations diverted him away from his own need. He suspected he could go on for a while still.

He tapped her clit in fast, shallow rhythm. The girl made a high-pitched sound - music to Madara's ears. He tapped more and the girl arched towards his hand and away from his body. She was making the penetration difficult but that didn't matter. She was apparently doing it instinctively and Madara knew he was on the right track.

He freed his hand from inside of her dress and grabbed her hip to give them at least some purchase. His fingers kept tapping the same urgent melody and more sounds came out of the girl. His thrusts didn't quite match, but still he went as fast as he could.

He had an urge to sink his teeth into her exposed neck to hold her still. But he restrained himself – how would she look on a party sporting a fresh bite-mark? Instead, he grabbed her shoulder and pushed her towards himself. The girl screamed. She threw her head backwards and clenched around him so tightly that he knew he just passed a point of no-return. He wanted to prolong her orgasm and keep working on her clit, but he couldn't. In a reflex, he grabbed her hips and thrust three more times until he came. He emptied load after load into her until it felt nothing was in him anymore.

He reached the railing and steadied himself; he was panting, his forehead propped on the girl's shoulder. There were black spots running in front of his eyes. The strength of the orgasm almost knocked him out. He was out of practice - he should really make sure he takes women to bed more often.

The girl underneath him stirred and it brought him back to the reality. So now what? How do they avoid a complete mess? Madara looked around – a small table with decorative flower vase was almost within their reach. Holding the girl close to himself he extended his hand… With just tips of his fingers he pushed the vase carefully millimeter by millimeter. Until the fancy doily under the vase was free to pull off of the table. He pushed the cloth to the place where they were still connected. The girl's hand jointed his, and when he was sure she was holding the fabric, he slowly withdrew.

The girl readjusted her dress – a slightly comical sight as she was still holding one hand between her legs.

"Hmm, I need to find a bathroom and make myself ehem… presentable," she said. "I need to get on that stupid stage myself in… What time is it exactly?"

"Quarter past nine."

"Oh, great, I still have half an hour!" The girl exclaimed with relief.

"And why exactly do you need to get on the stage…?" A strange sense of foreboding took root in the back of Madara's mind.

"Ah, they will be giving me some prize or something. For the research, you know? Alright, I _really _need to go now…" She fidgeted pointing between her legs. "So, see you later, I guess?" She started off down the corridor, but after couple of steps she turned her head back to him. "I had fun. Really. I felt very well… entertained…" She sent him a radiant smile and left.

Madara took a step down the stairs. Quarter to ten… As far as he remembered the program – and he had photographic memory, so he was pretty sure he remembered correctly – there was a presentation of recipients of grants from the industry scheduled for this hour. The names on the list were all male and the only female that he could recall was a certain Sakura. Wouldn't it be fitting to call a pink-haired girl "Sakura"? And the surname… Madara strained his memory. That was a funnily fitting surname… Haru no Sakura? He took notice because the name sounded familiar... Where did he see this name before?

He went another two steps down and took out his phone. Ah! He was right! He saw it in his own calendar. He remembered clearly how he had scolded his assistant for accepting Hashirama's invitation to committee meeting about the new round of industry grants. The idiot of his assistant filled the only gap he had in his schedule next Monday with a completely useless function. When Madara called Hashirama trying to cancel it, another idiot – of his friend this time, wasted half of an hour of his life describing how interesting sitting in the committee was and how Madara would love it. Figuring out that he would lose more time on discussion with Hashirama than on actually meeting, Madara relented.

He opened the attachment to the message. Yes – Haruno Sakura. Could it be her? Madara spun, but the girl already disappeared behind the corner. If his assumptions were correct, that will be one heck of interesting Monday. Madara wasn't sure if he was prepared for this.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it ;) Please tell me what you think!


End file.
